After a month of soliciting and selling, convincing and cajoling, presenting and pleading, and grunting and groveling, we put our financing in place for our retail expansion. Money was wired to us yeterday, and we wired it out to display manufacturers, who wired it to China, who probably started parsing it out to the millions of workers who make stuff over there, to the tune of a few dollars a day.
I suppose I should celebrate, but I never do. It is both a blessing and curse. I breathe deeply for a few minutes, smile about a milestone reached, then immediately begin worrying about what needs to be done next to ward off disaster. I've never been able to enjoy any success for very long. But the bitterness of my failures is a taste that lingers on forever. As a result, I'm not driven by the trappings of success, but rather by the fear of failure.
We're all driven by different things. I've grown comfortable with my motivations and doubt that they will change. I wear them like an old pair of shoes--scuffed tops and worn heels, but they are comfortable and fit me well.
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